


Hidden Power

by merelyafigment, visionofblue (merelyafigment)



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Short One Shot, poorly executed metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29833530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelyafigment/pseuds/merelyafigment, https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelyafigment/pseuds/visionofblue
Summary: Miguel Alvarez thinks about ownership and power, while Ryan O'Reily watches over Em City.
Relationships: Miguel Alvarez/Ryan O'Reily
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	Hidden Power

**Author's Note:**

  * For [temis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/temis/gifts).



> Inspired by the wonderful and supportive [temis](/users/temis) saying this: _"because there's power in being the center of Ryan's attention"_. Sadly, rather than producing something thoughtful and serious, which it should've (and might still someday), I was struck with this quick silly thing.

Miguel grew up around a guy back in the neighborhood, little bit older than him. Guy was a bit unhinged, had a bit of power in his unpredictability and sheer balls, but he was also a fucking moron. So, age or not, place in the gang or not, Miguel had been basically respectful externally, but internally? Spent a lot of time rolling his eyes. Guy was just a lackey, too, and Miguel had a mouth he could back up, even as a young shit, so that external respect only went so far. 

Motherfucker was always talking about wanting a pet tiger. Not just fantasizing, but like he actually thought when he moved up the food chain and started raking in more cash and stature, he'd get one for real, like a big time rapper or something. (Motherfucking moron.) 

For one thing, even in their neighborhood, someone would take offense to a fucking giant wild cat tooling around, and no matter the place he climbed to, his apartment would never be a penthouse big enough to fit a piece of the jungle. 

Plus? It would've eaten that idiot. 

Miguel had pushed back on his bullshit a lot, just not as harshly as he would've if they weren't hermanos. 

Still. 

Miguel had been right last he heard. That asshole had gotten shot in a kneecap, settled down to being a permanent housebound stash, always under threat of being busted and nailed for holding weight that would never be his, and keeping books. No power, would never be more. He'd gotten a fucking Chihuahua. (That was just insulting.) 

Miguel didn't actually think about that guy much, behind bars. Because really, how much better was Miguel doing? Caged away, kept like his family before him. 

But no, Miguel eventually realized in one way he maybe had it better, and not just because he could still dance. (He'd say that didn't matter any, there being no one here for him to dance with. But that wasn't strictly true anymore, was it? Not if you wanted to get metaphorical about it.) 

O'Reily lounged around Em City like he owned the place. Always watching, listening, the go to guy for information, and his web of connections. But O'Reily was low to the ground and quiet with his savage capability, not a showy chest-beating motherfucker like the wiseguys or Adebisi. 

That neighborhood guy sprung to mind one day, or his foolish wish for a pet did anyway, when Miguel's gaze caught on O'Reily just sprawled back _on top of a table_ , practically lying there lazy and boneless, idly eyeing everyone-- 

\--looking like a fucking jungle cat. 

Deadly, with quiet power hidden in the undergrowth. 

Miguel almost laughed, out loud and everything, right in the middle of playing checkers with Bob. 

Miguel? Had never been stupid enough to wish for a pet tiger. 

But. 

He'd kind of ended up with one, hadn't he? 

Miguel knew, had for a while. Hadn't even needed a collar or a little bell, or a chair and a whip. All that lean intensity, clever brain and smooth tongue... 

...it belonged to Miguel. 

Not a pet, really, but a partner, slinking just as low and hidden away. 

But they were also different people. Miguel wasn't used to listening to the thump of his heart, beyond noting whether it was still beating or not, keeping him from an even smaller box. He was loyal (and his was slowly shifting towards his tiger, more than anyone else), but he was wary of saying shit you shouldn't say in here, of blindly throwing himself into the confusing things he felt like nothing else mattered. 

Ryan, on the other hand, followed the beat of his heart like marching orders, like the only loyalty the tricky man possessed. When Ryan's heart was thumping? Ryan was driven by it, all for the passion and warmth flowing through him. 

And his blood rushed from his heart towards Miguel. Had been that way for a bit, somehow. 

All that power, curled right around Miguel. 

And he hadn't done dick but be himself and take a chance. 

Definitely wasn't a fucking Chihuahua. 

Just as sure as it was his. 

Theirs. Caged, but powerful nonetheless. Dangerous, but not to him, not anymore. 

All his. 

Lounging on top of the fucking table, in the middle of the fucking day, in the fucking quad, like it was nothing. Like he belonged there. 

(He belonged... did he belong with Miguel? Under his hands, his mouth, against his skin. That impressively scary mind spinning to keep them _both_ safe now.) 

Miguel caught his laughter behind his hand, as he made Bob king him on his last move. 

Later, they'd steal some time away, where they couldn't be seen. Maybe Miguel would ask what the fuck O'Reily was thinking, giving up on chairs altogether for once. 

Or maybe they wouldn't talk at all. 

Maybe he'd bury his low laughter in the vulnerable crook of Ryan's throat, wrap the power of his own arms around Ryan's wiry frame. 

Maybe he'd see if the big cats could fucking purr. 

Miguel was pretty sure he could make his do it. 

He could make his devour him, in the best way. 

***  
End

**Author's Note:**

>  **Note:** Ryan lying on top of the table as he casually observes his fellow inmates, looking like that's a totally normal thing to do instead of being strange, is actually canon. He's doing it in the background in Season 2, I think. While this is set sometime later than S2, I just went with the assumption that wasn't the only time he did that.


End file.
